


Would Have Stayed if You'd Had Asked

by SpiralsInTime



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Shower Days, The Amazing Devil, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiralsInTime/pseuds/SpiralsInTime
Summary: I've been listening to The Amazing Devil on repeat for the past few weeks and one of their older songs, "Shower Days," reminded me of the mountains-scene in episode six. Though, instead of focusing on Jaskier's thoughts...why not see how Geralt is doing during all of this mess, uh?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 121





	Would Have Stayed if You'd Had Asked

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to The Amazing Devil on repeat for the past few weeks and one of their older songs, "Shower Days," reminded me of the mountains-scene in episode six. Though, instead of focusing on Jaskier's thoughts...why not see how Geralt is doing during all of this mess, uh?

“Though you don’t want to lose her, Geralt,” Borch paused, meeting his eyes with the gold towering above him, “You will.” The words twisted, a finely crafted dagger running through his gut, shifting ever so slowly, dragging out his pain.

“He already has.” 

The blade rammed through him, his eyes swiftly meeting Yennefer’s. The wind guided her thin hair, sticking to the wetted cheeks from heavily scented salty tears. All of his senses ran to a point of singularity; Yen. The lusterless lavender eyes, usually overflowing with power, now a vortex of overwhelming torment. The somber locks of hair thrashing with the harsh mountainous wind, normally portraying control, now only the loss of. Whips of hair covered her face as if desperate to hide away like a child facing a monster. He needed to move and felt the urge to whip the tear stains away, but his body, stunned, like a hit from a drowner. He couldn’t move while he watched her give a glance to Borch before turning and walking away without another word. 

Geralt clenched his jaw painfully, moving his murderous gaze to Borch. “You wanted to show me what I was missing, there she goes.” The words came out more saddened than what he wanted, but he couldn’t care, not when Yen was walking away from him. He couldn’t focus truly on the words spoken to him, something about Destiny being out there still, but  _ fuck Destiny.  _

He still faintly smelled her aroma. Lilac and gooseberries flooded his scenes, intoxicating yet fleeting, though yearned after. He knew, of course, that wouldn’t be the last time he smelt her, but it was the last time she’d smell like  _ want  _ for him. He fucked up far before he knew. This fact only enraged him further. 

Geralt’s mouth went agape, trying to speak the unformed words he didn’t have. He turned angrily, listening to another person walk away, he hadn’t even remembered Jaskier was there until he spoke with an awkward string of words. His scent became an underling in his life; a constant, for Jaskier was always there with him. 

The bard was present when fear-filled villagers threw rocks at him like whips, barking out sword-sharpening words like  _ butcher, mutant, monster.  _ Yet, he stayed beside him, willingly getting hit by a few of those whips. He was there, after Geralt’s fights, with gauze and bandages in hand if needed, a steaming hot bath on the ready if they were at an inn. A look of unknowing clear over his soft features, unaware of what to expect when Geralt arrived, strong waves of worry masking his natural scents. A routine built after a while, Jaskier looking up at him once he came back covered in blood and reeking guts, already shooting up from where he rested, a flood of questions and dialogue flowing from his mouth. 

_ Are you hurt? Well, of course, you are, I mean, look at you! Melitele's greatest tit, you reek! Let me help—oh, don’t you give me that look. I know you don’t need help like you always say - which in itself is quite, nevermind, let’s not go on a tangent - but I want to, so no more “scary Witcher look,” you already know that doesn’t work on me, you overgrown pup. Oh, Geralt what happened? I’ll need to sew that up - no, don’t even think about telling me that’s not needed, I’m still doing it. I’m surprised you’re still alive, god, I don’t know what I’d do if—oh, I made some new bath soaps for you to try, make sure they’re not too overbearing on your senses.  _

Jaskier’s scent, he realized, has always been there these past years, whether from him standing beside him, or the scent carrying its way on his cloak during the winter months in Kaer Morhen while the bard stayed at Oxenfurt. Jaskier was the one constant in his long-lived life. The more Geralt thought about it, the rage building up became unbearable, his fists and jaw ached from being clenched, he wanted to punch something, to just stop feeling.

“Phew! What a day!” Jaskier chuckled out, awkwardly trying to move past the conversation he witnessed. “I imagine you’re probably-”

“Damn it, Jaskier!” Geralt barked, throwing his angry gaze to the bard standing behind him. “Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s  _ you _ , shoveling it?”

“Well, that’s not fair,” the words barely whispered out, nearly being lost by the wind, but Geralt stormed on.

“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it,” Geralt bared his teeth sharply, his golden eyes ablaze with utter rage. “If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take  _ you _ off my hands.” He pointed accusingly at the quiet bard, swiftly throwing his body around, the silver sword on his back facing Jaskier. 

Geralt breathed heavily, waiting for the underlining scent of his life to fade away. He tried not to focus on the all-too-fast beating heart behind him, the obvious hurt lurking around, engulfing the bard entirely. 

“Right. Uh...Right, then. I’ll...I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others. See you around, Geralt.” 

He noticed the hesitance in leaving, knowing the bard gave him a window of opportunity to tell him to stay, to apologize, but he didn’t. Geralt fixed his burning gaze toward the mountaintops, unable to move, a silver sword struck his chest, paralyzing any further movements. His armor suddenly felt unbearable, grievous, like he was fresh out of the Trail of Grasses, his body ever-so strong, yet unquestionably weak from the unfluctuating changes that flooded his young figure.

Geralt’s mind fixated on Jaskier. Inhaling deeply, the scent of lavender and ink lingered in the air, instinctively he closed his eyes, the soft words of  _ that’s not fair  _ painfully echoed in his head. Jaskier had never sounded utterly broken, even after Countess de Stael had left him. Geralt thought back to that day, the drunkenly sung words, sounding hopeless until the bard had stumbled across him, his voice quick to relief when acknowledging Geralt’s presence. The harsh filling-less-pie comment. Though, of course, he hadn’t meant it. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out sharply to himself, letting his mind wander to a particular night when Jaskier skillfully playing his lute, his gentle voice singing along to a sad melody. 

  
  


_ The crackling of the fire dominated other sounds as Jaskier sat quietly against a thin aspen’s trunk on the opposite side of the fire to Geralt, his fingers lingering over the neck of his lute, eyes following his slow movements. The usual child-wonder-filled eyes were a dark shade of blue, mixing with the flames of the fire, and looked almost glazed over, lost in thought.  _

_ Geralt shifted the angle of the skinned rabbit over the low fire before looking back up to see Jaskier smile weakly at him. It was odd, how quiet the bard was. The lack of his voice brought a strike of worry through his body.  _

_ Turning his attention elsewhere to drown out the growing scent of sadness seeping out of his bard, he focused heavily on the thin forest surrounding them. Though, he smelt no monsters near and only heard the rustling of the forest’s floor as a fox dug into their covered den.  _

_ They ate in silence, the only sound heard was of the bard’s stomach growling, a cry that he desperately needed food. Geralt wanted to speak, to ask the other something, but he wasn’t one to start conversations, that was always Jaskier’s doing. The silence grew wary to the Witcher, but he didn’t seem to show it.  _

_ “‘Night,” Geralt offered, knowing that was an appropriate thing to wish.  _

_ “Goodnight, Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice was soft, muffled from already being curled up across the dying flames on his bedroll.  _

_ Time passed and Geralt found he couldn’t sleep, not when Jaskier’s heart rate remained fast; too fast for his body to be asleep. Considering speaking up, asking if he was alright, the bard began humming. Geralt’s attention, like it nearly always was, was brought back to the young bard’s voice. The tune was sad and new, something he probably created after the whole djinn situation. Geralt cringed at the thought. He knew he was all to blame for what occurred.  _

_ “You’re the one who told me my hair looked better black, you’re the one who told me to never look back,” Jaskier’s voice was just below a whisper, sounding sad, yet peaceful to Geralt’s ears as he stilled, not wanting to startle the bard by letting him know he was in fact awake, listening. _

_ “You’re the one who asked me if I’m feeling okay, I said ‘I’m fine’, it’s just-” he slowly went back into humming the words after his voice had cracked ever so slightly at the words ‘I’m fine.’  _

_ Geralt forced his eyes closed, wanting nothing more but to comfort Jaskier, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. _

_ “Leave the room but you get caught in the rain, know you should love him, but it's such a pain. Would have stayed if you’d had asked, but instead you just walk away. Walk around all nonchalant-” Jaskier’s voice cut out and fell into silence again before harshly muttering to himself.  _

_ “I’m not her, he belongs with her.” _

_ He felt sick of how much worry and protectiveness he began feeling in his gut for Jaskier. He heard a few more mumbles of the same tune, the gentle voice cracking like a break in an old building, slowly overtaking it. “You’re the one who told me to never look back, you’re the one who told me to never look back. Well I’m looking back and looking back-” Jaskier paused to sniff, shifting in the blankets thrown over him on top of the bedroll. “-and I’m looking back and looking back at you. So for Christ’s sake just say something…” _

_ Suddenly, Geralt felt as if magic engulfed him, his head pounding and chest aching. Jaskier’s words held that affect over him and he hated it. Hated not understanding what it meant, what he wanted, what Jaskier wants. He painfully clenched his jaw, ignoring the soft cries the bard let out before he fell asleep smelling of longing and hurt. _

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered again, shaking his head to force him back into the present. The present where Jaskier wasn’t here, where his smell did not linger any more. Geralt could only smell his own rage and regret. 

_ I should have said something,  _ he thought to himself angrily, the overwhelming sense to punch something consumed his being all over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you folks enjoyed, if you did, please feel free to leave kudos and/or comments! If you're interested, follow me on Twitter @ SpiralsInTime for more Witcher content.


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